sed by the more
solemn and sepulchral stillness of the cathedral itself. But not less
impressive was the development at that early hour of the immense scene
from its lofty summit, whence was frequently beheld "the forest of
London," without any indication of animated existence. It was
interesting to mark the gradual symptoms of returning life, until the
rising sun vivified the whole into activity, bustle, and business. On
one occasion the night was passed in the observatory, for the purpose of
meeting the first glimpse of day; but the cold was so intense as to
preclude any wish to repeat the experiment.

Mr. Horner, in his narrative, mentions a narrow escape of Mr. Gwyn,
while engaged in measuring the top of the dome for a sectional drawing
he was making of the cathedral. While absorbed in his work Mr. Gwyn
slipped down the globular surface of the dome till his foot stopped on a
projecting lump of lead. In this awful situation, like a man hanging to
the moon, he remained till one of his assistants providentially saw and
rescued him.

The following was, if possible, an even narrower escape:--When Sir James
Thornhill was painting the cupola of St. Paul's Cathedral, a gentleman
of his acquaintance was one day with him on the scaffolding, which,
though wide, was not railed; he had just finished the head of one of the
apostles, and running back, as is usual with painters, to observe the
effect, had almost reached the extremity; the gentleman, seeing his
danger, and not having time for words, snatched up a large brush and
smeared the face. Sir James ran hastily forward, crying out, "Bless my
soul, what have you done?" "I have only saved your life!" responded his
friend.

Sir James Thornhill was the son of a reduced Dorsetshire gentleman. His
uncle, the well-known physician, Dr. Sydenham, helped to educate him. He
travelled to see the old masters, and on his return Queen Anne appointed
him to paint the dome of St. Paul's. He was considered to have executed
the work, in the eight panels, "in a noble manner." "He afterwards,"
says Pilkington, "executed several public works--painting, at Hampton
Court, the Queen and Prince George of Denmark, allegorically; and in the
chapel of All Souls, Oxford, the portrait of the founder, over the altar
the ceiling, and figures between the windows. His masterpiece is the
refectory and saloon at Greenwich Hospital. He was knighted by George
II. He died May 4, 1734, leaving a son, John, who be